Red is the Rose
by Treluna
Summary: CS AU. They say you only see in black and white until you meet your soulmate. Emma didn't believe in soulmates. Her life was her own. She was the only one who would decide her fate. But life had other ideas. Begins as Emma/Neal but is actually Captain Swan. based on a Tumblr prompt given by @loving-cs-fanfiction This story starts as Neal/Emma and ends as Emma/Killian.
1. Chapter 1

Mary Margaret would tell her that "red" looked like the warm feeling you get when you step into the shower after a long, cold day and that her eyes were as brilliantly green as the leaves of a flowering tree on an early spring day. Ever since she had met and married David Nolan, Mary Margaret tried to describe all the varied hues of the world she saw through the lens of "True Love." She insisted that when you find your true love, your world is no longer limited to black and white and that life was meant to be lived in color.

Emma only listened to placate her friend. Though it was common knowledge that those who found "the one," their "soulmate" insisted that they saw the world in color, Emma Swan was a skeptical woman. Her world had always been black and white and honestly, that was fine with her. Emma had a good life. She had Henry, she had Neal, she had friends with crazy theories who loved her completely. Emma treasured the little life she had cultivated in New York City. She and Neal went to work, picked Henry up from school, ordered chinese for dinner. While Mary Margaret saw colors, Emma focused instead on real, tangible things that made her happy. If all of those things happened to be varied grey hues, what was so wrong with that? Honestly, Emma didn't have any concept of what colors even were, having only ever known black and white. Why long for something you've never had, when what you already have is pretty damn good?

"Hey, mom." Henry shed his backpack, kicked off his shoes by the front door and kissed his mom on the cheek as she stirred a pot on the stove.

"Hey kid. How was school?"

"Good. You're home early. Your text said you'd be out late."

"Turns out the guy wasn't as smart as I thought. I turned him in a couple of hours ago."

"Awesome!" Henry said enthusiastically. Though his mother rarely told him the particulars of her job, he knew enough to know that if Mom caught the bad guy, it was going to be a good day. He opened a cupboard and took out a box of cookies.

"Hey," his mom admonished, "just one. We're going to have dinner in a bit."

"Okay," Henry said, biting down and talking through his mouthful of cookie, "My class is going on a field trip to the natural history museum next week. There's a permission slip in my bag."

"Put it on the counter before you go to bed and I'll sign it in the morning." Emma said as she turned off the stove.

"When's Dad coming home?"

Emma looked up at the clock. "Any minute now. Do you have homework?"

"Yeah, not much though."

"Alright, why don't you take care of that after dinner."

"Cool."

Emma sat at their small kitchen table in their cozy (small) midtown apartment and smiled as she listened to Henry and Neal talking over their bowls of mac and cheese; a staple in the Swan-Cassidy household.

After dinner, Henry went to do his homework and Emma and Neal sat together on the couch to watch Game of Thrones. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.

Later that night, Emma and Neal made love in their bed. She didn't see fireworks, but her toes almost curled at the end. Almost.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Wait, why do we need flowers?" Emma asked, her phone at her ear as she walked quickly past 73rd st.

"Because," Neal said, "Your friend just had a baby. Customarily, people bring flowers."

"Why? No one brought flowers when Henry was born."

"They wanted to. You told them not to." Neal reminded her. She could hear the exasperation in his voice.

"Oh, right." Emma scowled as she crossed the street and slipped under the awning that read _Second Star Florists._ "Well, I still think it's ridiculous idea."

"Duly noted." Neal said dully. There was an awkward pause.

"So I'll see you there?" Emma asked as the little bell on the door jingled.

"Uh… yeah, I'll try to get there. Work's sort of crazy at the moment."

"Okay." Emma said with a heavy sigh, "I'll text you."

"Okay, love you."

"Uh-huh. Love you too. Bye." Emma turned off her phone and finally looked up at the man behind the counter. Emma's heart did a small flip flop. Standing beside the register was the most attractive man she had ever seen, and there was no shortage of good looking men in the city.

He smiled at her solicitously and asked "Can I help you find something, love?"

Dear god, he had an accent. Emma cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice steady. "Yeah, I'm looking for flowers."

 _Of course you're looking for flowers, Emma. You're in a flower shop._

The man smiled kindly. "Is there a special occasion?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Yeah, my friend. She just had a baby."

"Congratulations." He sounded sincere. "Do you know if she has a particular favorite?"

"Well… She told me once that red was her favorite color." Emma said.

The man's smile faltered. Only for a moment. Then he walked toward one of the coolers lining the walls and slid open a door. As he reached in to pull out a flower, he said; "hmm… well, I know most people are partial to the rose but I actually favor the Dahlia. It has a far more intricate design, and they say that the sharper edges really make the colors burst."

He lifted a flower out of a water vase and held it out to her. Emma took it from him, a somewhat dazed expression on her face. She barely heard what he was saying. She was so lost in the movement of his lips that she began to wonder what it would be like to kiss them.

 _Married._ She told herself. _You. Are. Married. What are you doing?_

Emma mentally shook herself again. "Thanks," she said, indicating the flower. "This is the red one?"

He looked uncertainly at the stem in her hand. "Yes, I believe so."

"You believe so?" She repeated, "You don't see color?"

Emma could tell he was blushing from the darkening of his grey cheeks. "No," he admitted, looking away from her, "I don't see color."

"Me neither."

The stranger smiled again. Emma couldn't help it; she smiled right back. In spite of herself, she felt a strange connection with this man.

"I'm Emma." she said.

"Killian."

Emma tried not to swoon. _Seriously?_ "It's nice to meet you." she reached out the hand that was not holding a flower and he shook it, his smile growing wider.

The second their hands touched, Emma felt a shock. A bolt of electricity shot from her hand and ricocheted around her body. She dropped his hand at once. His smiled faded. It was clear he worried that he had offended her.

"So, I think you're right. I'll take the Dahlia." She said quickly, handing the flower back to him and trying to cover up her momentary awkwardness. Killian went about gathering a bouquet of dahlias, matching the others to the same shade of grey as the one in his hand, and returned to the front register. As Emma handed him her card, Killian stared at something just above her ear. Emma turned around but there didn't seem to be anything strange behind her.

"Is… Is everything alright?" Emma asked uncertainly.

It was Killian's turn to give his head a little shake. "Yes, of course. Sorry about that. I just saw… something."

He rang her up and made no more mention of anything out of the ordinary yet when Emma walked toward the door, she quickly looked behind her and saw that he was still staring at her, his mouth slightly agape. His expression was something more than shock. It wasn't until later that she realized there was fear in his eyes. Once he saw her looking back at him, however, he hastily busied himself with something else behind the counter.

 **/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/**

There was something strange about the flower but Emma couldn't quite figure out what it was. Though she didn't remember the last time she had actually seen a Dahlia, these didn't look like typical flowers. Emma stared at them as she sat on the train, heading up to Columbia Presbyterian.

Emma checked in at the front desk, followed the nurse's directions and knocked on the door of 1311. "Come in." said a soft voice. Emma gently pushed the door open.

"Hi." she said quietly. Mary Margaret beamed at her, a tiny figure lying prone on her chest. David was passed out on a chair in the corner. Emma walked over and gave Mary Margaret a kiss on her cheek. She looked down at the baby.

"Oh, Mary Margaret. He's beautiful."

"Yeah," She said, "He is." She looked from her baby to the bouquet in Emma's hand. "You brought flowers!" she laughed quietly.

"They're Dahlias." Emma said.

"Oh. How fancy." Mary Margaret's face shone with complete happiness. "And they're red, too. How did you know?"

"Red!" Emma said loudly. Mary Margaret jumped in surprise. David's eyes flew open and he sat up straight, "Sorry, David." she said quickly.

"It's fine," David said with a yawn. "It's good to see you, Emma."

"It's good to see you too." she responded quietly, fighting a rising panic as she glanced again from the flowers to David. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." David beamed and sat back in his chair, his eyes closing again.

"It's been a long night." Mary Margaret smiled at her husband and kissed the top of the sleeping infant's head.

Emma stared at the bouquet again. How did she not realize that before? The flowers. They weren't grey like everything else in her life. They were red, or at least they looked the way Mary Margaret had always described red. Whatever they were, they were no longer grey. The panic in heart heart must have been evident on her face. Her friend placed a concerned hand on Emma's arm. "Emma, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Really. I just need the bathroom. I'll be right back." She turned and walked quickly to the little bathroom the room provided. She closed the door and looked in the mirror. Everything there was still normal. At least, she looked the same that she always had. The fixtures in the bathroom, the walls, the door, everything else in her vision was just the same as at always had been. So why were the flowers suddenly red? She thought back the flower shop, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything changed.

Killian. Though she hadn't realized it at the time, Emma now felt certain that the flowers only became red after she had shaken his hand. Emma turned on the faucet and cupped her hands under the icy stream of water. She gently lowered her face onto her hands and felt the cold water spread over her face.

Everyone knew you only saw color once you've meet your "soulmate"; the one person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But Emma didn't even believe in soulmates! One person chosen just for you by some great cosmic plan? It frankly sounded like horseshit to her. Emma didn't believe she was part of some grand design. Her actions were her own. Her life was her own. No one else could decide her fate.

Yet the flower was red.

Emma took a deep breath. And then another one. She looked in the mirror and nodded at her reflection. The soulmates thing she'd figure out later but for now she needed to put this crazy mess aside and focus on her friend. Mary Margaret was gazing lazily at the bouquet sitting on her bedside table with a content smile on her face so naturally, when Emma opened the bathroom door, that was the first place she looked as well. The flowers seemed to taunt her. They drew her eyes and once she saw that they were still red, she felt panic threaten to explode within her. Emma pushed her fear aside and sat in the empty chair next to the hospital bed, shifting it slightly so that her back was toward the flowers. She could still sense them there, but at least if she didn't see them, she could almost pretend they didn't exist. Almost.

After about fifteen minutes, Emma noticed Mary Margaret yawning, her eyes growing heavy. Emma took that as her cue to leave. She kissed her friend's cheek again and the top of the sleeping baby's head and shut the door quietly behind her.

Down on the street, Emma raised her arm to hail a cab. A bright yellow car was slowing to a stop beside her. Frantically, Emma waved it on and opened the door of the light grey cab that followed. "23rd and Lex." she said, fighting the persistent shaking of her limbs.

The first thing she noticed was her couch. The couch that she and Neal had picked out together years ago. She could still remember going to the furniture store that day. They had a rather enjoyable time sitting and lying on the various bed and couches in the store but they couldn't find something that felt right. Eventually they picked this one, as it had been the softest and most comfortable. They didn't bother asking about the color, because what difference did it make?

It was orange. But not just any orange. A hideous, straight-from-the-seventies lurid orange. Of all the things in her house to magically appear in color, this monstrosity had to be the first thing. Though Emma had now seen red flowers, a yellow cab, a blue (maybe) bird, and some green (right?) trees, this was the first orange thing she had seen. The only reason she knew that it was orange was because that was what the furniture salesman had said. After briefly mentioning his husband and saying that yes, he could indeed see colors, he said that this couch was "the most beautiful orange. Like a sunset." Emma scoffed now. Either the man was bullshitting her about being able to actually see in color or he just desperately wanted to see this ugly couch.

There was no way Emma could continue to stare at this ugly blob sitting in her living room. She grabbed her keys and her purse back off of the table where she had just set them and headed back out.

Twenty minutes later she was returning from the Bed, Bath and Beyond downtown when she turned a corner and bumped straight into someone.

"Watch it!" she hollered, glancing up at the man. Her jaw dropped. "It's you."

Killian looked as though he had been hit by a steamroller. His entire face went slack; his jaw wide and his eyes bulging. "It's you." he said quietly. Killian gave his head a little shake and rearranged his features into a more natural expression, though he kept glancing at the sides of Emma's face.

"How did your friend like her flowers." he asked, attempting a smile.

Emma didn't know what to say. She never expected to see him again and yet, now that he was here, she couldn't help but feel angry.

"What did you do?"

"S-sorry?" he asked, confused.

"What did you do to that flower? How did you turn it red?" she demanded. Emma didn't believe in soul mates. She couldn't. Not even faced with possible proof that her deepest held belief was, in fact, wrong. Emma was far too stubborn for that.

Killian smiled in relief, "You can see colors, too?" he asked, taking a step toward.

Emma took a step backwards in response. "Whoa, buddy. Don't get any ideas." she held up her hand in front of her, "This doesn't mean anything. I'm not your soul mate. I'm married. I'm... happy. This has to be some stupid trick of yours but, guess what, it's not funny."

His smile became irritating. It was almost patronizing. "I assure you, love. I did not do anything to those flowers other than wrap them in paper."

"Don't call me 'love.'" Emma snapped. She was feeling very off center. Her entire world had turned upside down and Emma couldn't regain her bearings.

Killian held out his hand. "Why don't we start over."

Emma looked warily at the hand. The last time that she touched him, things did not go well. Or they went very well. Better than anything had ever gone before. Regardless, she was afraid of what would happen if she touched his hand again.

"I won't hurt you, Emma. I promise." Emma looked into his eyes again and in that moment, she knew that Killian was telling the truth. He would never hurt her. She took a deep breath and reached out her hand.

The moment her skin touched his, the entire world changed. In the last few hours, since their first meeting, random objects kept appearing in color. Small splashes of life among a sea of muted greys. Now, standing on this crowded street corner in Astor place, the entire world suddenly burst into color. Emma gasped and looked around. It was as though she was waking up from a long dream. The world suddenly seemed truly complete in a way it never had before. It felt right. It made sense. She looked back at Killian and saw the same look of wonderment on his own face. Their eyes met and they smiled at one another.

"Hi." Emma said.

"Hi." Killian replied.


	2. It's just Coffee

Guilt is a persistent thing. It creeps into your stomach and latches on. Try as you might, it cannot be shaken. She felt guilty when she told Neal that she had taken on a new case and it was keeping her busy. She felt guilty each time she sat across the table from Killian. That was all. They sat. They talked. He stayed on his side of the table. She on hers. Though she tried to tell herself this was all innocent, just two new friends having coffee, Emma Swan knew better. She knew that the table was the only thing keeping them apart and if her skin came in contact with Killian Jones' again it wouldn't stop there. And then she'd really have something to feel guilty about.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Emma and Killian met nearly every day and rhapsodize over all of the different colors they now saw in the world and had animated debates about everything from books and movies to politics. They both loved thai food and suspense thrillers. He loved Back To The Future and Die Hard. She had never seen Pulp Fiction. She adored Victor Hugo and Ernest Hemingway. He had a thing for Kerouac. However, they quickly realized they had more in common beyond the realm of favorite authors.

"My father abandoned me and Liam when we were kids." he told her.

"That's awful." Emma said.

"Aye," Killian agreed. "We were raised by a distant relative who was… less than kind."

"What does your brother do now?"

Killian took a sip of his tea and looked down at the table. "He died a few years back. We were travelling overseas and he caught a virus. I was there when he-" he cleared his throat and took another sip of tea.

"Killian, I'm so sorry."

Killian looked up and quickly flashed her a smile before returning his focus to the table in front of him. Emma reached out her hand and placed it on top of his before quickly removing it. She was crossing a line. She knew that, but Emma just couldn't stand to see him in pain. Killian cleared his throat again and looked up at her.

"So, what about you, l- Emma?" he quickly corrected himself. "Where did you grow up?"

"All over." Emma said. "I was raised in the system. I was bounced from one home to the next until I was about seventeen. That's when I met Neal." Killian kept his face passive. He always did whenever she mentioned her husband. It was one of the things she respected most about Killian. Emma knew how hard these conversations must have been for him but he never let it show. As he had told her once before, he was first and foremost a gentleman. And Emma was a married woman.

"I didn't really have anyone in my life before him," Emma continued, "Neal and I, we understood each other. He was raised in the system just like I was. Neither of us ever had a lot of money. We struggled for a while. Once I found this bail bondsperson job, he was so excited for me. Finally I was able to make real money for the first time in my life. That was always important to him. Money meant freedom. He found a job at a firm in the Financial District a few years ago. He said that after all the shit we've been through, it meant something to be able to support ourselves."

Killian took a sip of tea. He had that look on his face that Emma now understood to mean that there was something he wanted to say but was unsure whether or not it would be well received.

"What?" she asked at once.

"Nothing." Emma gave him a very pointed look and he continued, "pardon me for saying so, but you don't seem particularly happy being a bail bondsperson."

Emma considered this. "It is a good job and it's really good pay but…" Killian watched her, waiting, as always, "I mean, it's not a very safe line of work. I'm not really worried about myself but I am worried about what will happen to Henry if something happens to me while I'm out on a job."

"You're his mother." Killian said reasonably. "Of course you worry about him."

Emma smiled. Killian had a way of somehow putting her mind at ease. "And I guess..." she paused, "I grew up with shitty people who did shitty things and I fought so hard to get away from them. And now as a bail bondsperson, I'm searching for those same kinds of people. The truth is, some of them aren't even that bad! Some of the people I track down are just decent people who keep making mistakes." Emma sighed, "I guess I'm just tired."

They were quiet for a minute. Then Killian said, "What would you want to do, if you weren't a bail bondsperson?"

Emma suddenly became quite nervous. She had only ever discussed this with Neal. Her dreams, like so much else in her life, she prefered to keep to herself.

"A doctor." she said at last.

Killian's face lit up. "You'd be a great doctor."

"Really? You think so?" Killian nodded enthusiastically. Emma continued, "It's just, well, I never went to college. I didn't even finish high school! I finally got my GED a few years ago. If I went back now, it would be a really long processes. Lots of years of studying and struggling and crippling debt and let's be honest, in a city like this, the last thing I'd need is debt."

"But it's your dream, isn't it?" he asked.

"Well, yeah." Emma smiled, lost in thought for a moment. "I like the idea of a job where I can help people... where I can… save lives. I know that sounds ridiculous."

"Not at all." Killian said seriously.

"Really?" Emma smiled.

"Absolutely." Killian assured her, "I think it's a very admirable line of work."

"But it will take years, and doctors work all sorts of crazy hours, and med school is so expensive and-"

"If it's your dream, it's worth it." Killian said simply. They were quiet for a moment.

"And what about you?" Emma asked, taking a sip of her now cold coffee, "I know you're passionate about music, but what else? What sort of life do you want for yourself?"

Emma loved the way Killian's eyes drifted slightly upward when he was lost in thought. His hand stroked the stubble on his chin and a smile played around his lips. Then his eyes returned to Emma and something within them clouded over. "I don't know." he said evasively, "I guess I haven't really thought of it."

"Bullshit." Emma said, not unkindly.

Killian laughed. "Aye, you're right. It seems I can't hide anything from you." He paused again, so long this time that Emma found herself growing frustrated. Then he said slowly, "I guess I like the idea of having a family one day. A wife and kids and all that." He was purposely not looking at Emma, and she knew exactly why. In her mind, unbidden, came a vision of a little girl with Killian's hair and her eyes. The thought filled her heart with joy. Emma saw glimpses of a life she could live with Killian. An unspoken heat passed between the two of them. Emma looked at her watch and her heart sank.

"I have to go." She said. "I have to pick Henry up from school."

Her own disappointment was mirrored in his face. "Same time tomorrow?" he asked her.

"Definitely."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Emma met Henry at school and the two of them walked home together. Emma tried not to think about Killian, but it was impossible. She could still see his face so clearly in her mind's eye. She remembered his laugh, the way he looked at her, the way he said her name.

"Mom, are you okay?" Henry asked suddenly, pulling Emma away from further thoughts of Killian.

"Hmm?" she asked, "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine."

"You seem weird today," he observed.

Emma laughed. "Gee, thanks, kid."

"You seem… sad," Henry continued, undeterred, "but you also somehow seem super happy. Like, more happy than I've ever seen you."

"That doesn't make any sense." Emma tried to laugh it off again but it was harder this time.

"Exactly," Henry replied.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

That night, when Neal walked through the door, Emma wanted to tell him that his eyes were the warmest brown she had ever seen and that their couch was hideous. When he asked about the new duvet cover, she told him that the cushions had started to scratch her. He set down his keys and his briefcase. He walked past her and gave her a quick kiss. Emma stopped him. She placed both hands on his face. He looked at her with an uncertain smile. Her lips met his again, more urgently than before.

She wanted to feel something. Anything. She wanted to feel the way she had earlier that day, when Killian looked into her eyes. Emma gripped Neal tighter and kissed him with more ferocity, willing more than her body to react. She wanted to love Neal with everything she had. Emma wanted so badly to need Neal in the way she somehow needed Killian, though she'd only just met him.

Later, Emma lay awake for hours. She looked over at Neal's sleeping form. Lightly, she touched his face. She liked him like this; relaxed. Happy. Loved. Emma loved Neal. She did. But as she lay there looking at her husband, she thought of Killian. She thought of the way his hair sometimes fell in front of his startlingly blue eyes and how he never put sugar in his tea. She thought of the way it felt just to be near him. Of how right it all was.

Except that it wasn't.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"What was the first thing you saw?" Emma asked over coffee the next day, "What changed color first?" 

Killian scratched the back of his head in a rather embarrassed sort of way. "Your hair."

"What?" Emma laughed lightly.

"Your hair. That day you came into the shop. When we shook hands, your hair became the beautiful golden color it is now. I had never seen anything like it. It was hard to concentrate on anything else after that."

Emma nodded. "It was the flowers." she said.

Killian raised his eyebrow. "After that moment, after our hands touched, the dahlias you gave me were bright red."

They were quiet for their longest stretch yet. Then, Emma finally plucked up the courage to ask him: "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"I do now," Killian replied, after a pause.

Emma felt a smile creep onto her face. A blissfully happy smile that she couldn't hide and didn't want to. Before she could stop herself, Emma reached out and placed a hand on Killian's. This time she did not pull it away. He looked uncertain for a moment, then returned her smile and wrapped his hand around hers.

His hand felt warm and wonderful. It felt like love and home and she wanted so badly to feel that hand touch her cheek, wanted his arms around her, wanted his lips on hers. She looked into his eyes and saw love there. Emma was overwhelmed with a desire to be closer to him. But then reality caught up with her. She was sitting in a crowded coffee shop in the middle of Manhattan and Killian was not her husband. She quickly withdrew her hand.

"I'm sorry." she said, her eyes at the table.

"I'm not." Killian replied quietly.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Two weeks had passed since Emma walked into Killian's flower shop. Two weeks of coffee and the very rare touch of his hand. After two weeks, Emma suggested that they take a walk around Central Park. She knew she was pushing it. That coffee shop table was the only thing keeping them apart. And she was now taking that obstacle away. Emma honestly didn't know where she was going with this idea but wherever it was, she knew she'd probably regret it. And for some reason that meant she had to try.

After all of their endless conversations, this silence was painful. Emma didn't usually mind the silence. In fact, with certain people she preferred it, but this was different. As they walked down the path with enough space for another person to pass between them, it took all of her self-control not to run to Killian and throw her arms around him.

Eventually, Killian broke the silence.

"Emma, what are we doing?"

"We're walking." Emma said, knowing full well that's not what he meant.

Killian stopped. Reluctantly, Emma turned to face him.

"Do you want to be with me?" Killian asked her.

"Yes." Emma said at once. They smiled; one conflicted, the other hopeful.

"I'm married." Emma said.

"Yes." Killian responded. They were quiet for a moment. Then Killian took one step toward her.

"Before we met," he said, "I thought my life was fine. I went to work, I played music on the weekend, I lived in black and white. I thought that I was happy. And then you walked in, and everything changed."

He took another step toward her. He was close enough to touch. Emma's heart beat faster as she looked up into his eyes. "Emma, we have something here. Something I've never felt before and I don't think you have either. I know this situation is very difficult for you and I would never want to do anything to cause you pain, but I need to be honest. I need you to know. I love you, Emma Swan, and I will wait for you. As long as it takes."

She expected to feel that itch in her bones, that screaming desire to run away. But it didn't come. Her brain tried to tell her to run yet here she was, standing in front of this man who wasn't her husband and she couldn't leave. Emma took a step toward him and her hand found his. Killian sighed at her touch. She gently pulled on his hand and brought him closer until he was standing right in front of her. She could feel his heart beating on her palm. Her other arm wound around the back of his neck. Her lips met his.

Over the years she had heard plenty of people talk about that first moment they kissed the love of their life. They all said their head felt like it was spinning, their knees felt weak and for just that one moment, the rest of the world melted away, leaving nothing but the two of them. That, like so many things, Emma considered a load of bullshit. And that, like so many things, had changed forever now that she had met Killian Jones.

Standing on that path in the middle of Central Park, Emma's head spun around so much she couldn't tell if it was night or day. Her legs were so weak she felt that at any moment she would collapse on the sidewalk, yet she was safe in Killian's arms. They were the only thing anchoring her to this world. She kissed him hungrily and he returned her desire. Her hands roamed over his back and she felt his fingers running through her hair. Emma was consumed by the feeling of his lips on hers and the rush of love she felt for him. All too soon she broke away from him.

"No," she whispered. Killian dropped his arms from around her waist, though his face was still close to hers and he was breathing heavily. Emma's hands were lying flat on his chest. "No, we can't do this. We really can't do this."

"I know." said Killian breathlessly.

Emma needed to get out of her own head. She needed sane, rational perspective from a sane, rational person, which at the moment was definitely not her. Emma nearly ran into the subway and took the well-worn path to the uptown train, got off on 110th and walked the few blocks to the grey and red building she knew so well.


	3. Love Isn't Always Enough

"Emma!" Mary Margaret said in surprise, opening the door wide and allowing Emma to pass through. "What's wrong?" she asked at once.

Emma was trembling all over and she could feel the tears welling behind her eyes. It was all she could do to keep herself together and then suddenly, she couldn't. There in the middle of the Nolans' comfortably cluttered living room, Emma sobbed into Mary Margaret's shoulder. Mary Margaret did not ask questions or demand an explanation. She simply held her friend as sorrow poured out of her. At last, Mary Margaret ushered her to the couch and brought her a glass of water and a bottle of wine, for good measure.

They sat in silence. Mary Margaret didn't ask the plethora of questions no doubt running around her head. She knew Emma too well. The two women simply sat, both waiting for Emma to start talking.

"I can see colors." Emma's voice was raspy. She took a sip of water. Glancing at her friend, she saw Mary Margaret go through every emotion she herself had experienced over the last few weeks; shock, joy, wonder and absolute sympathy. Mary Margaret could also see colors. She knew the impact of this statement.

"How long?" she asked.

"Two weeks." Emma took another sip of water.

A look of dawning comprehension crossed her face. "The flowers. They were the first thing to change, weren't they?"

Emma nodded and finished her glass of water. Without being asked, Mary Margaret poured a glass of wine and passed it to Emma.

"Who is it?" Mary Margaret asked gently.

"His name is Killian." Emma smiled as she said his name, she couldn't help it. She could still remember the feeling of his lips on hers and could still hear his declarations of love running through her head.

"You've been seeing him?"

"We've just been having coffee. Well, it started out that way." Emma took a sip of wine.

"And now?"

Emma hesitated. "I kissed him."

The impact of everything that had happened over the last two weeks hit her in that moment. She wanted to cry and laugh and throw something. Mary Margaret put her hand on Emma's.

"Do you love him?" Mary Margaret asked. Emma nodded and took the tissues her friend offered her. They were quiet for the longest stretch yet.

"How can I do this to Neal?" Emma asked, her voice trembling. "How can I just launch a grenade into the middle of our decade-plus marriage? How do I explain to him that yes, I love him, but that's not enough? I can see colors now, so that's it for us! The universe has spoken and it's time to get a divorce!" Emma finished bitterly, taking another sip of her wine.

"Emma, you don't have to get divorced."

She let out a hollow laugh. "I'm in love with someone who isn't my husband. What choice do I have?"

"Emma, you always have a choice." Emma shot her friend a look. Mary Margaret continued, "Yes, you can see colors now. We both know that means you met your Sou-"

"Don't say it!" Emma snapped.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "Your True Love, then. Can I say that?"

Emma muttered a response.

"Just because you met your True Love doesn't mean you have to do anything. You are still the only one who gets to determine your fate." Mary Margaret paused. "Does Neal know?" She asked gently.

Emma shook her head.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know if I can," she said quietly, taking another shaky sip of wine.

"Emma, you have to tell him. What happens if you stay with Neal another ten, twenty, fifty years? Are you going to keep something this monumental a secret from him for the rest of your life?"

Emma didn't know what to say to that. Mary Margaret pressed her point. "What if he does find out? What if five years from now you accidentally let it slip that you can see colors? How do you think he'll feel to know that all that time, your soul longed to be with someone else?"

Emma felt like the most horrible person on the planet. Like scum on the earth. She never wanted to be this. She turned her nose up at those cliche women who leave their husbands for the hot tennis instructor (or in this case, the knockout musician/flower store clerk who makes her head spin just by standing too close to her). She didn't want to be that person. But she wanted to be with Killian.

"Emma, sometimes love isn't enough." Mary Margaret said gently."If this is really how you feel, than you need to tell Neal. It wouldn't be fair to keep this from him."

Emma nodded. "I know. You're right." Emma sighed heavily, "I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to anyone else when I can't even explain it to myself. And Henry! what about Henry? How do I explain this to him?"

Mary Margaret sighed. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy, Emma, but True Love rarely is."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Hey." Neal called from the couch as she closed the front door behind her. ESPN blared from the giant 52 inch screen that Neal insisted they needed for their already cramped living room.

Emma sat next to him on the couch. Neal looked at her and turned off the TV. "Emma? What is it? What's wrong."

"Nothing, I just, I wanted to talk to you." Emma said quietly, her eyes on her lap. She fought back a rising panic and cleared her throat.

"Okay." Neal said slowly.

After many hours spent agonizing over how to tell Neal, after all of her careful preparation, Emma suddenly froze. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to blow a hole in her marriage? Her one saving grace in all of this was that Henry was at a friend's house for the night. Emma didn't think she could handle telling both of them in one day.

"I think I need a break." Emma said hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" Neal asked.

"I need some time… away from this… from us." Emma said slowly, her limbs shaking.

Neal was silent. He let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I can't say I didn't see this coming."

"What?" Emma finally looked up at him. 

"Things have been so different lately." Neal stared at the ground in front of him.

"Different how? Emma asked.

"You've changed, Emma." He said, looking up at her. "You're rarely home these days and when you are, I can tell you're not really here. You're not really in this. It takes two people to make a marriage work and lately I feel like I've spent more time with an empty shell than with the woman I married."

"I had no idea you felt that way." Emma said quietly. She reached out and took his hand. He rubbed his thumb against hers, just like he used to. She smiled slightly at the gesture.

"Emma, do you want out of this marriage?" He wasn't looking at her.

She didn't know what to say. Or rather, she did, but she wasn't ready to hurt him or herself that much. Not yet. "I don't know. I just need some time to think."

"Bullshit." He did not raise his voice. He did not even sound angry. He simply stated a fact.

"You're right." Emma said, her eyes still on their joined hands. "I do want out."

"Why?"

Emma hesitated. She knew what would happen if she told the full truth. She softened the blow as much as she could. "I can see colors, Neal."

"You can?" 

"Yes." Emma fought to keep her excitement in check but it was difficult. "Your eyes, Neal, your eyes are like warm hot cocoa with cinnamon. Henry's hair has flecks of sunlight in it, and sunlight! Neal, sunlight on the water is like music and… there's just so much color, so much beauty in this world that I never knew before."

Neal was quiet for a few minutes. Emma began to grow nervous. She was afraid she'd gone too far. "Who is he?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"You're…" Neal couldn't bring himself to say the word. He cleared his throat. "You see colors now. You didn't before. So who is he?"

Emma hesitated. "I don't think that's important."

"It's Killian, isn't it?"

Emma gasped. "How do you know that?"

Neal's smile held no humor, no warmth. "I met him."

"What?"

" I met him." Neal repeated, "I went into the shop. He sold me daffodils. He told me they were even more brightly yellow than they had been the day before. I asked if he could see colors, he said yes. He said he didn't used to see colors, it only happened recently. His face got this dreamy, far away expression when he said it."

Emma tried to process this. "When was this?"

"A week ago."

Emma pulled her hand out of his grasp. "A week ago? You've known about this for a week and you never said anything?"

Neal finally looked up at her. His eyes were bright. He nodded. Emma had never seen him so distraught in all their years together. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. She heard him stifle a sob.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I'm so sorry." Emma had seen more than her share of sorrow but never before had she felt like this. Never had she held someone whose heart she had just broken. It felt wrong to be the source of his comfort when she had also been the cause of his pain. Emma wiped the tears from his face and kissed his cheek.

"I'm so sorry," she said again.

"It's okay." he said, quietly.

After a time, Neal sighed and sat back on the couch.

"I guess I always knew this was a possibility." he said, clearing his throat.

"You did?"

"Well, yeah. When we met, neither of us could see in color. I didn't think much of it back then. I didn't really think that would change."

"Neither did I."

They were quiet. Again, Emma took his hand. Neal looked down at their entwined fingers.

"Emma, if you knew... if you knew that this would happen one day, would you have married me?"

"I don't know, I guess I hadn't really thought about that," Emma said. "I mean, really, if you think about it, we got married because the stick turned blue," she added carelessly.

Neal was quiet. "Wow," he said softly, leaning away from her, "Is that really what you think?"

Yep. Emma was scum. Officially. "I mean, wasn't it?"

"No!" Neal insisted. "Emma, I asked you to marry me because I loved you. I wanted to have a family with you.

"I loved you too! But Neal, I was eighteen!" Emma said.

"So?" Neal didn't realize he was close to shouting now.

"So we were young! I didn't know anything about marriage! I was scared, I had a baby coming, it seemed like the right choice at the time."

They were both quiet again. Then Neal asked, "Did you ever love me at all?"

Emma couldn't take the pain in his eye. The pain that she caused. All because of a damned flower. "Of course I did. I do! I love you, Neal. But sometimes, love isn't enough."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Emma stepped out of the apartment later that night and felt relief. A weight had been lifted. Her thoughts fell once more on a blue eyes musician and suddenly she couldn't stop smiling. She pulled out her phone. Though they had exchanged numbers, Emma had only ever texted him if she was running late to meet him, which happened more often than she liked to admit. A few minutes later she was hopping in a bright yellow taxi.

She paid the driver and nearly ran up the front steps. She pushed the door open when the buzzer sounded and almost floated to his front door. Barely a moment after she knocked, he was there. Killian's hair somehow looked windswept and he wore a smile the likes of which she had never seen. At once Emma threw her arms around him and their lips met. Again, her head spun as they stumbled together through the entryway, Killian reaching out blindly to shut the door behind them.


	4. Two Years Later

**Two years later.**

Emma's phone buzzed. She looked down.

 **Neal:** want to grab lunch

 **Emma:** Is everything okay?

 **Neal:** Yeah everything's fine. Henry's good. I just wanted to talk to you about something important.

"What's wrong, love?" Killian asked. Emma looked up from the phone and realized Killian was watching her.

"It's Neal," Emma said, slightly confused. "He wants to meet for lunch."

Though their divorce had been finalized a year ago, she and Neal remained on good speaking terms. Throughout the process, both parents decided that the most important thing to do was to be civil with one another and to make this as easy on Henry as possible. Their son was their priority. He was the only thing they had in common anymore and so he was the only thing they ever discussed.

Emma debated. It was Saturday. Emma was lying on the couch with her head on Killian's lap, watching an old movie. Or at least, Killian was watching it. Emma had been lightly dozing as he stroked her hair.

Now in her second year at NYU, her schedule was so chaotic there were entire days when she didn't get to see Killian or Henry or anything but the inside of a library. Sometimes the only communications between her and her family were the little notes Killian left on her nightstand every day or Henry's lunchtime texts and snapchats (Emma had no desire to get Snapchat, but it helped her stay connected to Henry, so in her mind it was worth it). She made a point to set aside as much time as possible to be with her family but these days it was difficult.

Emma realized she was still staring at her phone, trying to decide what to do.

"Is everything alright?" Killian asked.

"I don't know. He says it's important."

"You should go." Killian said.

Emma looked up at him. "Are you sure? It's is my only day off this week."

"I know. And we'll spend the rest of it together when you get back." Killian said with a smile.

"But we have so little time together as it is!" Emma protested, reaching up and laying her hand on his cheek.

Killian took her other hand in his. "I know, love, but as I've said; we have our whole lives to be together. What's a few short years when you have True Love?"

Emma smiled and sat up, giving him a long, lingering kiss. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because I love you," he replied with another peck.

A few minutes later Emma was opening the door to the restaurant and spotted Neal in a booth off to the side. He stood up and gave her a quick hug. Emma sat down and noticed that Neal seemed… different. He was smiling in a way she had never seen before.

"What's going on? What did you want to talk about?" Emma asked at once.

Neal laughed, "That was something I always loved about you, Emma. You like to get straight to the point. You don't waste time."

Emma began to eye him suspiciously. "Okay," she said slowly. "Seriously, what's going on?

"I just can't believe you never told me," Neal said with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Never told you what?" Emma began to grow even more uncertain.

"You never told me how hideous our couch really was," Neal said, smiling more broadly than ever.

This sentence took a minute to land. "Wait…" she said slowly, "Do you… Neal, are you seeing colors?"

Neal nodded, that same smile on his face. And now Emma realized why it seemed so familiar. It was the exact expression she caught herself wearing whenever she talked about Killian.

"Who is it?" Emma asked at once.

"Sam." Neal spoke the name with an almost reverent love.

It was Emma's turn to smile. Over the next hour, Neal told her all about Sam. Where they met, how long they've been together, their plans for the future. Neal's face shone with pure joy as he spoke. Shone in a way it never had with Emma.

"I never understood why you left." Neal said quietly, after the waiter had left with their empty plates. "Not until now. Once you start seeing the world in color, after you've found your... "soul mate" I guess they call it, it's sort of like coming home."

An hour later, Emma opened the door to her apartment and found Killian in the bedroom, folding laundry. He smiled when he saw her and she wrapped her arms around him. As she kissed him, Emma felt that same swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach. Two years together and he still made her head spin. Standing there with him, surrounded by half folded laundry, stacks of textbooks and the life they made together, Emma knew what Neal meant. She was finally home.


End file.
